Valley Of Fire
by ShannonSto
Summary: Revisting a cold case leads to awakening for Grissom. GSR.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Revisiting a cold case leads to awakening for Grissom. Despite Sara's absence from this chapter, this is definitely going to be GSR. Updates may be slow due on ongoing computer problems. Aargh.

**Spoilers:** So far, not much.

**Disclaimer:** Please! If I owned them, they'd have celebrated an anniversary ( or three) by now.

_Some people stay far away from the door _

_If there's a chance of it opening up_

_They hear a voice in the hall outside_

_And hope that it just passes by_

_Billy Joel, "An Innocent Man"_

_XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX_

"Man, this just isn't cool," Warrick Brown slammed the book down on the table. "This guy went out of his way to make sure everyone knew who he was talking about."

Catherine turned to face him, her curiosity piqued. "Do tell."

"This cop, this..." he scanned the cover of the paperback, "Mark Tenney, wrote this book, 'based on a true story', he says. About a park ranger who was found dead in the Valley of Fire State Park. He throws around a lot of innuendo about the way the case was handled by the CSI, an eccentric forensic entomologist."

"And what did this eccentric forensic entomologist do that Tenney disagreed with?"

"Called the case a suicide. Tenney makes a case for homicide, makes it look like CSI bungled it." Warrick shook his head and slowly exhaled. "Ever hear of this guy?"

"Tenney?" Catherine took a seat beside her friend and coworker. "Vaguely familiar. Seems like he might have retired right after I started here. Wow, good thing Gil's got thick skin." Immediately after the words came out, she doubted them. Grissom's work was of utmost importance to him. While he put up a brave front, he never appreciated being questioned about it. If Tenney's arguments proved to have any validity, Gil might indeed take it very badly. And it wouldn't be merely a wounded ego at having been wrong; it would also mean that someone had gotten away with murder, and, because of his error, the trail was now ice cold.

"I don't know about that. He takes a lot of pride in how he does his job."

She considered a moment before continuing. "Does Tenney present a reasonable argument? Does he give any specifics?"

"Tenney?" Grissom appeared at the head of the table. "Mark Tenney?"

Catherine was surprised by his entrance into the room and the conversation, but recovered quickly. "Do you remember him?" How much had he heard?

"Unfortunately."

Warrick slowly stretched his arm to offer the offending novel to his supervisor. "Do you remember this case?"

"Refresh me," Grissom's brow furrowed as he read over the summary on the back cover.

"Aaron Dunphy. He was a ranger at the Valley of Fire."

Gil nodded, the case outlined in the paragraph becoming quite familiar. "That's a pseudonym, actually. He hanged himself in the desert."

"Officer Tenney has a different version of events." Catherine watched his face closely, determined to catalog any reaction he might give.

"He was quite vocal about it, as I recall. But the evidence said suicide," Gil countered firmly.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Grissom closed his briefcase and logged off his computer. Jacket donned, he tucked his glasses into the breast pocket. A quick glance around the office revealed nothing out of place, so he switched off the light, closed the door behind him and headed for home.

The Saturday morning traffic was scant, but still he somehow managed to hit every light red. _The more you just want to crawl into bed, the further away it gets,_ he lamented to himself.

Tenney's book was bothersome. Yes, it seemed like just another true crime novel, and Gil had always known it was only a matter of time before one of his cases ended up as fodder for the genre, but this one troubled him. He tried to replay the details in his mind. Alas, 1993 was a long time ago, and he had worked many, many cases since then. He made a mental note to pull the file next time he was at work.

He sometimes ate breakfast before going to bed, but today he was exhausted. He sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly struck by an odd sense of isolation. The house was very quiet, as it was every day. In the past, he'd found it comfortable. He had found peace in his safe and controlled environment. How curious that what was once comforting was now disconcerting. When had that changed?

Sleep came in disturbed waves, interrupted with unbidden images. A body hanging from a rocky crag. A man placing the barrel of a gun into his mouth and pulling the trigger. Blood spattering onto a wall. The eyelids of a badly burned woman suddenly fluttering open. A beautiful and frighteningly familiar dead woman posed on a shower floor.

He turned and peered at the clock. Two thirty in the afternoon. Though it was early, he decided it was best just to get up. He rarely had nightmares, but he had learned that when he did, there was no point in battling them.

Somehow his townhouse was even more quiet than it had been when he'd gone to sleep. The distant sound of children's laughter streaming in from the pool area failed to enliven his home; instead it served only to make it seem more empty.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Just can't stay out of trouble, can you, Gil?"

Damn. Ecklie. The last voice Grissom wanted to hear as he prepared for the night's shift.

"Did you need something, Conrad?"

"A few minutes of your attention. In my office." Grissom grudgingly entered and stood across the desk from his longtime antagonist.

"Have a seat."

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Suit yourself," Ecklie smiled snidely.

"What's this about?" Grissom stood with his arm around his files, appearing nonchalant.

"_Valley of Fire_," Ecklie read from the cover, "a tale of murder and mystery, based on a true story."

Gil stared icily. "I'm familiar with it."

"Relax, Gil, I'm not accusing you of anything. I remember Mark Tenney." Conrad pronounced the former detective's name with a venom that suggested he felt the same way about the man as Grissom did.

"So why am I here?"

The lab director leaned back in his chair. "You're here because the mayor wants this..._audited_, if you will. We're going to review the case and make sure all the 'i's are dotted and all the 't's are crossed."

"And make sure I didn't miss anything."

"Well, that does come with the territory. This isn't a persecution, Gil. We just want to know what happened. This lab can't afford any more bad publicity."

Grissom sighed. "And what will I be doing?"

"Your job. Minus the CSIs we'll be assigning to the case. Don't look so skeptical. I told you, you're not being accused of anything."

TBC


	2. Trouble Ahead, Trouble Behind

_Trouble ahead, Lady in Red_

_Take my advice, you'd be better off dead_

_Switchman's sleeping, train one hundred and two_

_Is on the wrong track and headed for you._

_Grateful Dead, "Casey Jones"_

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_

"Sara, help me out here...is this a good thing or a bad thing?" Greg fidgeted nervously as he struggled to keep up with Sara's brisk pace.

Setting aside her own concerns, she stopped and faced him with a smile of camaraderie. Greg was intelligent and eager, and showed a lot of promise, but it hardly seemed fair to him for Ecklie to force such a task on him so early. She felt a protective instinct toward the young man given the circumstances.

"I hope it's more of a convenience thing. Warrick, Catherine and Nick are all busy with their own cases. We got it by default."

"Ah, but do we want it?" the young man gave her a pointed look.

She chuckled sarcastically. "I love to be forced into positions like this. It's like _Animal House_. 'Thank you, Sir, may I have another!" The others did have cases they were working, but she couldn't help wondering if Ecklie had an ulterior motive in choosing her for the review. Was he trying to drive a wedge between her and Grissom? They were only just beginning to rebuild their weather-beaten friendship. Did Ecklie think it was more than friendship, or was he applying the 'divide and conquer' strategy preemptively?

The last thing in the world she wanted to do was examine Grissom's work with the proverbial white glove, especially if it turned out that he'd made a serious error. Her first reaction when presented with the assignment had been to refuse it. Her protest fell on deaf ears; Ecklie made it abundantly clear that she had no choice in the matter. Sure, she could resign, but her loyalty to Grissom kept her hanging on. It wasn't long ago that he had saved her job. Sadness and doubt tugged at her heart. _His life would be easier if I left. So would mine_. They only seemed to coomplicate each other's existences. But then she looked more deeply into her soul and knew while her life would be easier, it would be colorless.

Greg's incessant nervous energy brought Sara back to the moment. "So, where do we start?"

"I start looking this over," she waved the casefile. "You start at Barnes and Noble. And stay out of the erotica aisle!"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Sara sat at the desk, the casefile spread before her. Grissom's handwriting jumped out at her page after page. It was more than twelve years earlier, before she'd even met him, and yet it seemed as though it could have been compiled yesterday.

A part of her desperately wanted to find in his favor. His work meant everything to him..._yep, everything_, she noted with a familiar rush of sadness, and he was damn good at it. But anyone could make a mistake. She was determined to be thorough and honest in her assessment. She wouldn't sacrifice her professional integrity, and she was fairly confident that he wouldn't want her to either. How did she keep getting into these situations? _Might as well bite the bullet_. She gathered her papers and sought out the object of her musing.

Sara drew in a deep breath and paused at the doorway of the employee breakroom. Grissom seemed not to notice her. He was very involved with the study of the contents of his paper bag lunch.

"Avoiding me?" She asked with a forced lightness.

"Huh? Uh, no." He carefully removed the wrapper from his submarine sandwich. "I knew you were busy."

Sara unconsciously crossed her arms protectively in front of her body. "Just so you

know, I tried to decline it."

"I know. I'm not upset with you," he told her sincerely. He brushed a section of table clear with his forearm and motioned for her to sit.

She appreciated the gesture, but remained uneasy. "This is crazy," she offered. "Even if you did miss something—and that's a big if—I'm not likely to find it. This case is cold, cold, cold."

"You're thorough. If it's there, you'll find it." His approachable attitude and gentle tone allowed Sara to relax a bit.

"And if there is something?"

"There's no statute of limitations on murder."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Greg flashed a peace sign to Archie as he passed by the audiovisual lab. Fieldwork, and its emotional impact, had proven more grueling than he'd imagined. Sometimes he missed the lab. He firmly believed he'd made the right choice, but he now realized that the learning and adjustment curves were both quite steep. _And now here I am checking up on Grissom...egad! _He paused to reassure himself_. Just stick close to Sara._

Spying Sara at a nearby desk, he triumphantly placed his shopping bag next to her.

She looked up from her reading and grinned. "You got the goods?"

"Times two." He produced twin copies of _Valley of Fire_ from the bag. "So we don't fight over it."

"Thanks."

"Ya know, next time we should consider the library. We're actually paying this guy for writing this drivel," Greg groused.

"Hmm, you're right," Sara skimmed over the photos in the center of the book. "I hadn't thought of that."

Greg sat facing the rear of the chair and rested his chin on its back. He watched Sara studiously for a moment. "What do we do about objectivity? If we read Tenney's book, we're potentially biased by his take on it, right?"

"And if we read Grissom's notes, we're getting _his_ interpretation, right?" Sara responded. "Our job is to pick out the basic facts and physical evidence and see where they lead us."

Unable to determine whether Greg's expression was confusion or skepticism, she elaborated. "Fact: On April 17, 1993, at six forty-five in the morning, a coworker called 9-1-1 and stated he found the vic hanging by a noose from a rocky outcropping. That's indisputable. Totally objective. What's subjective are the opinions as to how he came to be hanging there. We have to examine the evidence for ourselves. To get the facts of the case, we have to read the file containing Grissom's interpretation. We're potentially biased whether we read the book or not."

"Knock, knock," Nick's voice sounded from behind them.

Sara spun in her chair. "Hey."

The Texan flashed her his affable smile. "So how'd you two get into this one?"

"Rock smashes scissors," she quipped dryly.

Greg raised his closed fist in front of Nick's. "Best two out of three?"

Bringing his hands together behind his back, Nick laughed. "I don't think so, Greggo. Nice try, though." He returned his attention to the tall brunette. "Seriously, Sara, how're you hanging?"

"I'm okay," she lied. Despite her best attempts to put up a brave face, she couldn't shake the growing sense of imending doom.

TBC


	3. When He Shines

**A/N: I'm so, so sorry that it's taken so freakin' long to update this fic. While I'm giddy that the Geeks are finally together, it's made the angst that was supposed to be in these chapters very difficult to write.**

**Spoilers: Everything through mid-season 6**

_This man's a child, this man is old_

_Sometimes he's mild, sometimes he's bold_

_This man I love, sometimes in spite_

_of wishing he'd stick to his guns or abandon the fight._

_This man's a gentle man, this man is strong_

_This temperamental man plays me along_

_But when he shines, oh when he shines_

_Yes, when he shines_

_He shines so bright_

_Sheena Easton, "When He Shines"_

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_

Gil's car rolled to a stop at the booth at the entrance of Valley of Fire State Park. It was a beautiful sunny Monday morning. The sun had only recently risen, and very few visitors could be found.

"Will you be needing a map, sir?" The attendant asked as the money changed hands.

"No, thank you." He rolled up the window and continued on his way. The investigator knew exactly what he was looking for and where to find it. He wound his way carefully down the narrow road, careful of the occasional bicyclist.

It was difficult not to be captivated by the natural beauty of this place; cacti and desert flora sprung up amid impossibly balanced rock formations. The native wildlife, though largely nocturnal, left ample evidence of their existence if one knew where to look. Nearby, ancient petrogyphs adorned stone walls, powerful reminders of those who had previously inhabited this desert.

Gil drove past several trailheads before arriving at his destination. He pulled into the parking area, mentally noting the only other vehicle there. Excellent. Just as he'd expected.

The trail twisted and turned, and still no sign of his quarry, but Grissom knew that he would find her a little further along the path. His first indication that he was close was the click of a camera, and suddenly there she was, her back to him as she focused on the landscape. He stopped behind her.

"Good morning."

With a start, Sara turned to him. "Hey. What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be anywhere near this case."

"What case? I'm merely a citizen enjoying one our natural treasures. I paid my fee."

Sara grinned, and resumed her photography. "Feeding your fascination with desert ecology, Dr. Grissom?"

He cocked his head and smiled ever so slightly from behind his sunglasses, "You know me."

"How did you know I would be here?"

"I know _you_," Grissom replied pointedly. "You'll want to see for yourself exactly what you're dealing with. Seeing the site in the file photos is one thing, but you'll want a first hand perspective. Juries sometimes request to visit the scene of the crime for that very reason."

Sara crouched down in front of a cactus. "I'm not sure what I'm looking for," she admitted.

Grissom shrugged. "You'll know it if you find it."

They meandered slowly along the trail, Sara observing the landscape and Grissom observing Sara. Silver-tinted signs marked various points of interest; the duo studied them with interest and exchanged small talk about their contents.

Rounding a slight bend, Sara stopped short.

"That's the primary scene," she noted.

Grissom nodded. He approached the site and pointed out the precipice. "John McWhorter—that's Aaron Dunphy to Mark Tenney's readers—was found here."

Sara reached into her bag and retrieved a manila envelope. Gil eyed her curiously, realizing he shouldn't be surprised she had brought along the crime scene photographs. She crouched and carefully surveyed every aspect of the site comparing it to the images she held in her hand.

"The rope was looped around there," she noted as she looked up at the ledge. "And then he just, what, slid off?"

Grissom said nothing. She scanned the base of the rocky hill, looking for a foothold.

"So how do we get up there?"

"We don't," Gil replied, "we're not experienced climbers."

Undaunted, she found a potential path and attempted to scale the rocks. No dice. The loose gravel slid out from under her feet before she could take a single step. She shook her head as she returned to Grissom's side.

"You're right, you'd need to be a skilled climber," Sara frowned. "Seems like it would be difficult to safely climb and drag along an unwilling victim. Unless, of course, they were acquainted, and the victim went along not realizing he was in danger."

Grissom cocked an eyebrow and looked again at the photographs he'd taken so long ago.

"Only one set of footprints led up to the scene. And they matched the vic," she confirmed. "Tenney theorized the killer could have easily obliterated his own prints in the sand."

Disappointed, she looked up at her boss, "There's nothing here that helps me."

"Too much time, weather and tourism," Grissom acknowledged.

"And indigenous wildlife?" Sara muttered sarcastically as she spotted recently discarded fast food wrappers and beer bottles near the ages-old rock formations. "Do they not see that there's a trash can every thirty feet?"

Gil followed her gaze and moved in for a closer look. "Ah, yes, the unmistakable sign of the North American Idiot."

"Homo sapien ignoramus?" Sara added with a wry grin.

"A bottom feeder," he winked quickly, almost imperceptibly, "yet inexplicably high in the hominid fossil record."

They had now reached the homestretch of the trail and began wending their way back toward the parking area. Sara became increasingly distracted. She stopped to get a closer look at the a beavertail cactus, its magenta flowers in full bloom.

"It's amazing how many things can live and thrive in the desert. They grow here in the scorching sun year round, all prickly and rough, ignored and taken for granted and yet give them a little water and they blossom into to something beautiful."

He had the sense that she was referring to the flowers only metaphorically.

"The ability to adapt is crucial to the survival of any species," he offered weakly.

"Or any individual," she replied as her face clouded over. "Look, I, I need to get going. I'm expected at a meeting."

Grissom nodded slightly. Her sudden discomfort and sadness were palpable, and he knew it was best to let her retreat.

"I'll see you later."

She forced a smile, "Yeah."

TBC


End file.
